


Fire

by cellostiel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Burns, Canon Compliant, Fire, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2639243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellostiel/pseuds/cellostiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is there, suddenly, in Stiles' space, and the words dry up in his throat. Derek's eyes aren't on his, though; they're on the angry marks clinging to Stiles' cheek, his ear, his neck, snaking under his shirt to claim his arm and back of his hand.</p><p>"I get it." Stiles says, quietly. "It's- I know it's gotta suck for you." Derek's jaw twitches, like he's biting something back. "But I'm still me, hey?" Stiles waves his uninjured hand, trying to illustrate his point. "I'll heal. I'm fine, I'm alive, it's <i>all good.</i> You don't have to-" </p><p>~</p><p>There's a fire. Stiles doesn't make it out unscathed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been sitting on this one for a while, but I finally managed to get it to a place where I'm happy to post it! Warnings for a brief description of two characters being caught in a fire and several descriptions of burn scars throughout the fic.

Derek is quiet when Stiles enters the loft, won't even look up when Stiles greets him tentatively.

"So this is how it's gonna be?" Stiles asks, hovering in the middle of the room. Derek is on his bed, eyes not leaving the book in his hands. "Are you ever going to look at me again?" Stiles' voice wavers. Derek looks up, takes in his face. In a way, it's worse than Derek not looking at him at all.

 

~

 

There was a fire.

It was at the school. Kira had been stuck, a tipped-over science cabinet pinning her to the floor, and Stiles, instead of getting the fuck out of there, had stayed to help her. He'd passed out from the chemicals and the smoke.

Kira had gotten them both out of there eventually, but it was damn close. Stiles woke up in the hospital, burns covering most of his right arm, stretching up his shoulder and neck and marring his face. Melissa's tone had been consoling as she told him they'd probably scar.

They discharged him a few weeks later, with a prescription for pain meds and physical therapy for his arm. Dad's had him on break from school, resting at home for the better part of a month. Stiles finally snuck away to see the pack today.

Kira was his first stop, but that visit was short. He couldn't handle the guilt in her eyes when she looked at him. She was okay, though, and that was what really mattered.

Scott had been a frequent visitor at both the hospital and casa de Stilinski, so the visit to the McCall's was short, too. That, and he didn't really need more than a few minutes of Melissa's disapproving looks.

Lydia scowled at him for making her third on his list ( _"Third,_ Stiles, _really?"_ ) but hugged him tight, careful not to aggravate his injuries, and told him in something that was half snarl, half choked back tears, "Don't you ever do that to us again. You hear me?" Stiles nodded and hugged her back, melting into the embrace.

Malia shoved him as soon as she looked at him, growling insults and reprimands. Then she insisted he stay for a good half hour so she could sap some of his pain. Despite his insistence that the pain meds worked _really well,_ it was more for her than for him, so he let her do it. Besides, the snuggles were really nice.

Liam was on a camping trip with his step-dad or something, so all that was left was Derek.

Derek, who is currently looking at Stiles like the simple act of it is tearing him apart.

"They probably won't scar." Stiles lies. Derek definitely picks up on it, but he doesn't say anything. Doesn't even react, really. Just blinks. "Okay, so you're probably pissed. I get it. Everyone's pissed at me. What I did was stupid, but you know what? Put me in that same situation again, a thousand times, with Kira or any of you guys, and guess what? I'd do the exact same fucking thing. So be pissed at me all you want, it's not gonna change a damn thing. You guys are my pack, and I'd do anything - _anything_ \- to protect you, even if it-"

Derek is there, suddenly, in Stiles' space, and the words dry up in his throat. Derek's eyes aren't on his, though; they're on the angry marks clinging to Stiles' cheek, his ear, his neck, snaking under his shirt to claim his arm and back of his hand.

"I get it." Stiles says, quietly. "It's- I know it's gotta suck for you." Derek's jaw twitches, like he's biting something back. "But I'm still me, hey?" Stiles waves his uninjured hand, trying to illustrate his point. "I'll heal. I'm fine, I'm alive, it's _all good_. You don't have to-"

Again, he's cut off, but this time it's by Derek wrapping him up in a hug, his arms under Stiles', and his face pressing into the uninjured side of Stiles' neck.

"Um." Stiles stands there, awkwardly, as Derek breathes in his scent, tightens his arms around Stiles' chest. At some point he decides, fuck it, and gingerly returns the hug; puts his injured hand between Derek's shoulder blades and grips his shirt as best he can, hesitantly resting the other on the back of Derek's head. Slowly he works up the courage to pet at the short hairs there.

"I don't…" Derek murmurs, almost too quietly for Stiles to hear. "I don't know what I would do, Stiles."

"Hm?" Stiles hums in question, not really sure what Derek means.

"If I lost you." Oh.

_"Oh."_

"Stiles, do you have any idea- Lydia calls me, middle of the night, to tell me that you and Kira are doing something _stupid_ and one of my worst nightmares is coming true-" Derek stops, takes a few deep, shaky breaths. Sounds wrecked when he continues, "I almost lost my sister and my-" He seems to choke on whatever he was going to say, like he can't make himself get the words out. Stiles' mind reels.

Kira is Derek's sister in the same way that Stiles is Scott's brother, but Stiles knows that's not what he is to Derek. He doesn't know what he is to Derek, actually. A friend? Pack? The annoying tag along friend of his sister's boyfriend? Someone that, more often than not, plays a key part in saving the day?

"Your what?" Stiles asks, hand stilling. Derek doesn't answer. "C'mon, Derek, what am I? What am I to you?"

Slowly, Derek pulls away, enough to look at Stiles. Their eyes meet, and Derek opens his mouth, as if to say something. Stiles holds his breath.

Then Derek's eyes flit to Stiles' burns, and he visibly shuts down. Stiles' heart tears a little as Derek disentangles himself from Stiles' arms and says, "Go home, Stiles. You need your rest."

Stiles watches, gaping, as Derek slinks back to his bed.

"Bullshit!" he calls. Derek stops short of the bed, but doesn't turn to look at him. "That's bullshit, Derek. You can't just- turn away from me like that. We moved past that a _long_ time ago, buddy."

Derek fists his hands at his sides, hunches his shoulders, but still doesn't turn around.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Stiles says, his voice rising and rising as he continues, "Is that what you wanna hear? I'm sorry I did something stupid and got hurt and that freaked you out. I'm sorry you had to go through that. But what do you expect me to do? You _know me,_ Derek. You know this is how I work. I do stupid, _reckless_ things when I think they'll help. And don't try to pretend you're not the exact same way. Mister 'gave my alpha powers to my sister through an extremely dangerous werewolf thing that may have killed me and not even _worked'._ Do you have any idea how I felt when I found out about that? From _Peter?_ I mean yeah, I'm glad Cora's alive and I get why you did what you did, but you don't get to act like I'm the only one who does stupid and dangerous things. Scott, for example! Kira! Malia! Lydia! Isaac! Pretty much _everyone_ we know! I don't get why you get so hung up on the stupid things _I_ do when-"

"Because!" Derek snaps, whirling around. "Because Scott and Kira and Malia and Isaac aren't _human._ They can _heal._ And Lydia is at least _smart_ about her stupid decisions."

"And I'm not?"

"No! You get into dangerous situations, don't let anyone know where you are because you think you can 'handle it', and nearly get yourself killed. You're so fucking _infuriating."_

"Why the fuck do you put up with me, then?"

"Because I care about you! I worry about you, and I don't know why you can't seem to get that through your _thick damn skull."_

"Maybe because you never _act like it."_

"When have I ever not acted like it?"

"Oh, I don't know, that whole thing in the pool where you insisted that we only needed each other for survival, maybe?"

"That was over a year ago, and I was paralyzed and _drowning._ And I never said 'only'."

"You implied it!"

"I did not! Do you know how many times I've stuck my neck out, risked my life, risked _everything_ , to save you? How many times, were it _anyone_ else, I would have just walked away? I was not _kind_ back then, Stiles. I didn't care as long as me and my pack were safe. But for some _stupid_ reason, I cared about you. I've _always_ cared about you. God knows why, but I have. I hate seeing you hurt; hated it back then and hate it more now. If I lost you I'd be _crushed._ Do you understand? I can't lose you, Stiles! I can't lose anyone else I love."

That's… well.

The loft is suddenly deathly quiet in the absence of their argument.

"You love me?" Stiles breathes. Derek averts his gaze, clamps his mouth shut. He definitely didn't mean to say that. "Holy shit, Derek-"

"Go home, Stiles." Yeah, he's definitely closed off now. Fuck.

"Is it like- like pack love, or- or family love, or friend love, or-"

"Go home!" Derek roars. His eyes flash blue, his fangs hang out of his mouth, and his face is red. With anger or embarrassment, Stiles can't tell.

"What, you think I don't love you, too? You think it wouldn't fucking destroy me if you died? That there wouldn't be a Derek-shaped hole in my life that I could never completely fill? You think I would keep showing up to save your ass from the monster of the week if I didn't love you? God, Derek, I'm so fucking crazy about you and you don't even _know._ You just walk around, thinking I don't care about you just as much as you care about me, which is _ridiculous._ You probably think I could never love you like you love me for some _idiotic_ reason like self-loathing and guilt from your fuck-ups - which are many, don't get me wrong, but you're getting better. You probably write off every little sign that I love you back, telling yourself that you're just fooling yourself, getting your hopes up for no good reason, but there _is_ a good reason. Like it or not, Derek Hale, _I am in love with you._ For better or for fucking worse."

Derek is staring at him. Staring at him, and _not saying anything._ Shit, maybe Stiles guessed wrong. Maybe Derek _didn't_ mean that sort of love, maybe Stiles just majorly fucked up their relationship. Derek's going to tell Stiles that no, he doesn't feel the same way, Stiles should go home. And Stiles will go. He'll go, stay away from Derek, give him space. Wait until the next big bad something rolls into town to patch things up. He can take it, it's not like he ever really expected Derek to feel the same way, to actually _want_ Stiles. He'll just- he'll go.

Stiles steps back, nodding to himself. God, what was he thinking? He mumbles what could be an apology, keeps backing towards the door. Derek snaps into action, steps forward, says, "Stiles, wait-"

"No, no, I get it. I misunderstood, I'm sorry, I'll- I'll just-" His words fail him, so he jabs his thumb over his shoulder.

Derek says, weakly, _brokenly,_ "Don't." but Stiles is gone. Out the door, taking the steps down three at a time. In his Jeep, driving away. Not looking back.

 

~  
  


Lydia knows what happened, somehow. Stiles doesn't question it, just lets her in, lets her set him up with soft blankets and pillows and mountains of junk food on his bed. Lets her put on some sappy romantic movie and burrow in his nest with him. Lets her go open the window so that Malia can join them.

Scott shows up at one point, frowns and complains that he wasn't invited, but climbs into the spot they make for him nonetheless.

"Kira's kicking Derek's ass." Scott tells him, unnecessarily. Stiles just grunts. Scott tilts his head, looks at Stiles worriedly. "Not what you want?"

"I don't care." Stiles tells him, sinking further into the cuddle pile. "I'm just so fucking embarrassed."

"It'll be okay, man. These things pass."

Is it kind of pathetic that Stiles wishes this wasn't a thing that had to pass and Derek had meant what Stiles thought he meant when he said he loved him?

The answer is most likely yes.

 

~

 

Eventually everyone has to go home for various reasons, though all of them are reluctant to do so. Stiles shoos them out, claims he needs to get some sleep. He does, but he also needs some time alone. They seem to get this, and take their leave. Not before hugging him and promising to stop by tomorrow, of course.

They're about halfway down the stairs when Stiles disentangles himself from his nest to get his phone, half-formed idea in his mind.

His hand in on it when Lydia pops back into the room, glaring at him. "Don't text him."

"What? I- I wasn't gonna-"

"Bull. Shit." Lydia strides over, plucks the phone out of his hands and sticks it in her purse. She looks at him, narrows her eyes, and firmly says, "No."

She slips back out of the room, leaving Stiles staring at the door, baffled.

He slumps back into his nest, grumbling to himself. He wasn't _actually_ going to- okay, he totally was. Thank god he has someone like Lydia.

So instead of sending Derek a text that's sure to be embarrassingly pathetic, he uses his Xbox to play Avengers on Netflix.

He's at the part where Banner arrives fifteen minutes late on a vespa when someone knocks hesitantly at his window. It's probably Malia, he thinks, as he calls for them to come in.

It's not Malia.

Derek doesn't come all the way inside, instead crouching on the roof outside Stiles' window and leaning on the sill.

"Um." Stiles says, eloquently.

"We need to talk." is what Derek says. Definitely better than Stiles' attempt at communication.

Stiles nods, sits up and pauses the movie. It's too quiet with it off, but an action-packed battle scene doesn't really seem like the best backdrop to what's sure to be a heart shattering conversation.

Derek shifts so he's sitting on the sill, his legs outside but body in Stiles' room, torso twisted to face Stiles.

"I'm sorry about… earlier." he says, looking at the wall.

"Yeah, nothing like having your confession of love met with dead silence. Real confidence boost, there." Stiles says bitterly, because he honestly can't help it. When he peers at Derek, the guy looks like he's been punched in the gut.

"I'm sorry."

"Whatever." Stiles sniffs, rubbing at his nose. He's not gonna fucking cry in front of Derek, he's _not._ Once Derek leaves, though, all bets are off. "It's fine, I know I fucked up. You don't feel the same way, that's- that's not cool. I'm not cool with that. I'm not." He rubs his hand over his mouth, glares at Derek. "I'm fucking pissed that you don't- but I'll move on. It's what I do." He tsks, scowls down at his hands in his lap. "It's what I do." he repeats, hating the words with every fiber of his being.

"Stiles… can I get a word in, here?"

"Yeah, sure, fine, do whatever you want." Stiles waves his hand dismissively. Derek sighs but swings his legs over the windowsill, propping his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together.

"I'm sorry. I reacted… badly." Stiles snorts, because, _hello,_ understatement. "But I was shocked. What you said about… not getting my hopes up, not believing that you… feel the way you do, that was all true. I'm fucked up, Stiles, and I've been trying to accept that people can look past that and still care about me, still _love_ me, but it's… hard, to say the least. I just needed a moment to process. That's not an excuse, just… an explanation."

Stiles stares into the space inside his closet, works his jaw as he thinks. He's still upset - still _fucking upset_ because that was bullshit, that whole exchange at the loft was bullshit - but he sees how he maybe folded before the cards were dealt. He's a teenage boy with a guarded heart that he made vulnerable to the guy he's in love with that's way, _way_ out of his league - so sue him.

"Okay." he says, bouncing his leg. "Fine, yeah, delayed reaction explained. Is that all?" He'd kind of like to get back to sulking and cursing his doomed love life. All this conversation is doing is making him feel worse.

"No, it's not." Stiles changes a glance at Derek, and he looks determined. "When I said…" he pauses, takes a breath, meets Stiles' eyes, "that I love you-" Stiles flinches, heart squeezing painfully. "-I meant it how you thought. It's not pack love, it's not familial love, and it's not friend love. Suffice to say, it's not platonic." He keeps looking at Stiles for a long moment, then looks down at his hands, shifting them nervously. "It hasn't been platonic for a long while."

"So, basically what you're saying is…" Stiles trails off, looks at Derek expectantly. Hope's starting to rear its stupid head, but Stiles tries not to let it get too far. Just in case.

Derek meets his eyes again and sounds so damn _vulnerable_ when he says, "I'm in love with you, too."

Well, how the hell else is Stiles supposed to react to that?

"Get over here," he says, voice cracking. Derek obeys, sitting carefully on the edge of Stiles' bed. Stiles rolls his eyes, tugs Derek closer.

"So." he mutters, staring at Derek's mouth a moment before his eyes flick up to meet Derek's. They're barely an inch apart. "You love me, huh?" Derek nods emphatically. "S'not fair that you can tell I'm not lying and I can't."

"I'm not lying." Derek insists, pressing closer.

"I believe you," Stiles says, because he _does,_ is the thing. "Just sucks that you're literally a lie detector. Kinda gives you an unfair advantage. How'm I ever supposed to plan surprises or keep presents secret?"

"You'll find a way, I'm sure." Derek smiles a bit, amused. Stiles finds himself smiling back.

"Shut up and love me." Stiles tugs on Derek's shirt, but Derek just raises a brow in confusion. "Futurama, dude." Derek blinks, absolutely _no recognition_ there. "Really? What do I even see in you?" Stiles sighs dramatically, shaking his head and grinning. Derek rolls his eyes and presses their foreheads together; gingerly, like he still doesn't quite believe this is happening. Stiles is having a similar problem.

But it is. It's happening. Derek fucking Hale loves him. In a non-platonic way. Fuck. Yes.

Stiles takes a chance, presses their lips together. Derek hesitates for about half a second before kissing him back. Their mouths slide against each other, Derek's hand coming up to cradle Stiles' face. The uninjured side, and Stiles knows that has to be deliberate.

For all the drama and holding in their feelings for so long, the kiss is pretty innocent. No tongue, no handsy stuff, and they hardly even open their mouths that much. That's totally okay, though, 'cause it's pretty fucking amazing.

Stiles goes to twine their fingers together, but hisses and retreats when he accidentally hits the one, _itty-bitty_ burn on his palm against the coarse fabric of his jeans. The damn things are still so fucking _sensitive._

Derek pulls back, concern washing over his face, and it's adorable, but also keeping him from kissing Stiles. He really likes kissing Derek, dammit.

"Are you okay?" Derek frets. He reaches as if to pick Stiles' hand up and examine it, but stops short, unsure.

"I'm fine." Stiles says, flipping his palm over to show the burn. It's a bit red, but nothing to worry about. "They're just, you know, sensitive. And not in the good way." He smirks, trying to drive home the joke, but Derek only frowns at him. "Derek, seriously-" Stiles cuts short, because Derek puts his fingertips on Stiles' wrist, the soft inside that didn't get burned. In just a few moments, the dull pain bleeds away.

Derek kisses Stiles again, softly, like he's trying to take the pain through his lips, too. Stiles is more than happy to let him try.

"If you ever," Derek says, between kisses, "do anything that- _monumentally_ stupid-" Stiles tenses, the argument from earlier rising to his tongue- "just make sure I'm there, too."

"Wha- huh?" Stiles blinks at Derek, uncomprehending.

"So I can make sure there's less chance of _this-"_ he moves his thumb, swipes lightly over the burn on Stiles' palm. Stiles winces. "-happening again." Derek is looking at Stiles like he's trying to drill the concept into his head, make sure Stiles _gets it._

"Okay, yeah. Yeah, I can work with that." Stiles nods. "Guess we'll be idiots together." Derek's relieved smile turns into a smirk.

"Since when have we not been?" Stiles laughs at that, pulls Derek in for another kiss.

At some point they do break apart, grinning stupidly at each other.

"Wanna stay and watch something?" Stiles asks. "I think I'm overdue for some Derek snuggles." Derek snorts, but nods, and Stiles starts making space for him in the blanket nest. "I just got Winter Soldier, wanna watch that?"

"Sure." Derek gets up, and Stiles directs him towards the movie while he arranges his bed just so. He gathers up all the junk food and sets it aside, but still within reach if need be. Honestly he doesn't expect a lot of snacking to be going on, but you know wolves and their appetites. Heh. Hopefully there'll be plenty of another 'appetite', though. For Stiles' dick. Stiles always wants Derek's D, he's just hoping Derek wants Stiles'.

As though sensing what Stiles has been thinking, Derek casts a dry look over his shoulder. "Stiles."

"I… said a bunch of that out loud, didn't I?" Derek nods. Stiles purses his lips, decides to just steer into the skid. "So, do you? Want my D, I mean." Derek just lifts an eyebrow. Stiles is mostly expecting a flat, sarcastic remark and an eyeroll as Derek turns back to the Xbox, but what he gets instead is, well.

It's about a million times better.

Derek stalks over, and Stiles belatedly realizes he's sort of lying back on his bed, propped up on his elbows with his legs splayed haphazardly. Derek takes advantage of the position, leaning over Stiles and kissing his neck, tugging his shirt down to kiss his collarbone, moving down and lifting his shirt up to kiss at Stiles' ribs, his belly, his hip, the patch of hair leading down to-

Derek noses at Stiles' crotch, presses a long, lingering kiss to Stiles' hardening dick through his jeans. His eyes flick up to look directly at Stiles, and Stiles is about ninety-percent sure he's about to cream his pants right here, right now- but Derek pulls away, a smug look on his face.

"That answer your question?"

"You're evil." Stiles groans, dropping his head back. Derek hums, leans over him to brush his lips over Stiles' exposed neck. Their bodies are lined up, pressed together wonderfully. Stiles spits strangled curses when Derek moves away.

 _"Evil."_ he stresses, flopping onto his back and folding his arms on his chest. His partially bare chest because Derek is evil.

Derek puts on the movie and nudges Stiles over until there's room for them both. He gets in behind Stiles, putting his arm around Stiles' waist and shifting far enough up that he can rest his chin on the top of Stiles' head. Stiles squirms a bit, gets comfortable, wishes Derek could tuck his chin over Stiles' shoulder without it hurting.

"The burns bother you, don't they." It's not really a question. He knows they do.

"It's fine." Derek says. He presses a kiss to Stiles' hair. "I'll get over it. It's what I do."

Stiles twists in Derek's grip to get a look at him, finds nothing but adoration there. So he kisses him. Sighs into it. Spends a long few moments staring into Derek's eyes when they break away. Totally ruins the moment by asking, loudly, obnoxiously, "So does this mean we're boyfriends?"

Derek rolls his eyes. Smiles. "Yes, Stiles, we're boyfriends."

"Cool." Stiles flashes a grin and rolls back over, wishing their hips lined up so he could grind his ass into Derek's crotch just to be a dick.

"Captain America is totally bisexual." Stiles says, as Steve definitely flirts with Sam.

"Mhm." Derek hums sleepily. Stiles bites back a laugh. They're not even five minutes in. He's kind of in the same situation, though, so he shifts, gets more comfortable pressed up against Derek, smiles as Derek's arm tightens around his chest, and closes his eyes.

Waking up by slamming your bad arm against the bed frame fucking sucks.

Having your werewolf boyfriend leech the pain and give you sleepy morning kisses is pretty awesome, though.


End file.
